


Greywalker: House Of Crows

by TerminalVelocity



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dreamscapes, God Fic, Greywalker, Greywalker Problems, Multi, Old Gods, Pagan Gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22612279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminalVelocity/pseuds/TerminalVelocity
Summary: It’s always the same book, the same river, the same road, the same story played out over and over and over and over again against an ever-shifting backdrop. But every time it happens again, the details shift and the pursuers get just one step closer.What happens if they catch up?





	Greywalker: House Of Crows

_“Why are we reborn!?” His bloodshot eyes demanded my truth. “Say it!” I turned away, hiding my face in my hands._  
“LOVE!” The words tore themselves from my lips. My eyes welled up with tears. “It was always love. Not time, not power, not knowledge… it’s about being with the ones we love.” His eyes slid closed, and a pale light lit the cave, showing the blood-encrusted wound in his side. “  
Yes, love…” His breathing was shallower now, and I Knew then, as I understand now, that there was no lever I could wedge against the Wheel of Fate to prolong this last moment, to change the future, or shift our destiny.

~*~

Five years since the Dreaming took me. Five years to the day, and still the scene in that cave haunts me. In quiet moments I can still hear the echo of his voice off the black obsidian walls. I can still see the sickly glow of crystalline lights across the planes of his body, bloody and broken beside the Well of Dreams. I can still feel his hand, going cold in mine and then falling from my grasp before I woke to daylight. In those five years, there has been something growing inside me, taken root in my veins in that cave. I can feel it, clattering against the cage of my ribs, I can feel it like some great beast slinking along at my side, or in the widespread wings that seem to shield me when I am at my most vulnerable. 

This never-ending drum that pounds just off beat to my heart, that reminds me that there are darker things in the world than just the monsters we've created. The nightmares that slink just outside the lantern light. The things you avoid looking at after the sun goes down by drawing the blinds, locking the doors, and hoping that this night, the Dream God is kind instead of cursing you to lie awake all night listening, listening, listening, to what slithers in the shadows before dawn. 

Five years, since I joined the ranks of the Greywalkers. Five years, since I swore my oath to Somnium, the Dream Giver, the Father of Oracles, and drained that poisoned chalice to the dregs and felt the burn of poppy and valerian oils across my tongue. And in that time, the Gods of the Wheel have seen fit to take me, night after night, and warn me of things yet to come, things that are happening in the deep places of the worlds, and things that I can do naught but Witness. 

This is the journal of Tristan, Greywalker.


End file.
